


Remembering Elsa

by Reflected_Skies



Category: Frozen (2013), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5610334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reflected_Skies/pseuds/Reflected_Skies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack tells Sandy Elsa's story, and his own part in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembering Elsa

Sandman drifted across the town, sending out tendrils of dream sand. There were lots of dreams of snow here; hardly a surprise with the foot of fresh snow on the ground. The Northern Lights danced overhead, natural this time and not a summons for the Guardians. A gust of wind suddenly pushed against him, nearly flipping him off his cloud, and he smiled. Cold and snow and the wind saying hello? Jack must be nearby.

Sandman swooped through the town, but he could not find Jack, or Jack’s handiwork. The frost lacked the sparkle that Jack’s had, the streets were plowed and dry, the drifts were not higher around the school or the ice thicker on the school busses. Puzzled, he rose higher, above the houses, the wind pushing against his back. He changed his cloud to the shape of a long board and stood, arms outstretched, surfing the wind as it blew him past the town, to the castle on a small island in the harbor.

No one slept in the castle. Scaffolding along the outer walls showed the ongoing battle between people and the sea battering the stone. The gates were closed, and Sandman swooped over them, catching a glimpse of a sign posted with tour times as he soared past. The entire courtyard was coated in ice, and in the center, between two fountains, was a woman made of ice, arms outstretched, glittering in the dim light. Jack was perched on the rim of one of the fountains, and he looked up as Sandman swooped in and landed.

“Hey, Sandy. What’s up?”

Sandman pointed to the statue, a question mark appearing over his head.

“That’s Elsa. Haven’t you heard her story?”

Sandman nodded. Queen Elsa, her castle of ice, the spring blizzard, the frozen sister, they all featured in the dreams of local children, had for centuries. He’d heard parents telling the story to their children as he floated past their windows, seen the statues and murals in the town, watched the end of plays that went on past the children’s bedtimes, sent in dream sand to kids who were too involved in recreating the story to sleep without a bit of help. He had never connected her story to Jack, and he frowned as he tried to remember the first time he’d heard it.

“It was a couple of years after I became Jack Frost,” Jack said, answering Sandman’s unasked question. Sandman floated cross-legged in front of Jack, listening eagerly. He loved stories. “It was cold, the wind howling. Not my doing, I was just enjoying the ride. Blew past a window with a broken latch and doubled back to take a look. There was a baby, and the window must have been open for a while, because she turning blue. I closed the window and built up the fire, but it wasn’t enough. I ran into the hall, opened windows and called the wind in, made a racket until people woke up. I banged the nursery door a few times, and people came running to make sure the baby was okay. The bundled her up and moved to a warmer room, sat in front of the fire and tried to warm her up, sent someone to get a doctor. The baby was crying and shivering. I just wanted her to be okay. It wasn’t my fault, but cold, wind, you know,” he shrugged, looking down. “I told her it would be okay, that her parents would take care of her, that I wouldn’t let the cold hurt her. I kissed her on the forehead and" Jack looked up smiling, "she stopped crying. I don't know if she could see me, never sure with babies, but she stopped shivering, and her skin turned pink again."

“I forgot about it until I came back a few years later. It was fall, cold enough for frost but early for snow. There was this little girl dancing on the balcony, and it was snowing, just on her. I tried to talk to her, but she couldn’t hear me. But when the wind blew, she laughed and spread her arms. She wasn’t cold.

“I came back a lot after that. I thought of her sort of as my goddaughter, you know? She had white hair, like me. I don’t know if it was because of me, but I liked to think it was. I don’t know what I did or how I did it, but she had my power. She had a sister who loved the snow and ice as much as Elsa, and I loved playing with them. I kept hoping they would see me, but they never did.

“Then one year, Elsa’s windows were closed. And they stayed closed. Sometimes there was frost on the inside. I rattled the windows, tried to push them open. One year I did, forced my fingers in the crack between the windows and pulled until the latch broke. Elsa looked horrified, but then she came out, stood there on the balcony. She was wearing gloves, and she kept her arms crossed, like she felt sick. She stood there for hours and watched as I made it snow just for her.

“Then one year, the castle gates were open. There were people everywhere, and Elsa was walking outside and smiling, and the wind actually dropped me because she told it to go away. She was happy, and she was in control. It was wonderful.

“It wasn’t hard to find out what had happened. There were lots of people visiting, and the locals loved telling the story. All I had to do was listen. She’d hidden her powers for years, lost control, turned spring to winter, and run away. Her sister went after her, Elsa accidentally hurt her, and her sister turned to ice saving Elsa from some jerk who wanted to kill them both and become king. Elsa figured out how to control her powers and fixed everything.” Jack smiled. “She could do things I couldn’t. There was this snowman, and he was alive. Really alive. Not the best source of information, kind of clueless, really, but he could see me. So could the monster thing Elsa had made. And there was this castle…wow. It was stunning. Made entirely of ice. I spent a couple of summers there.

“Then one year, Elsa was gone. The snowman too. The monster lasted a few more years, but eventually he must have disintegrated or melted or whatever living snow does when the magic goes away. I couldn’t figure out how she did it, how to make it last. The castle took longer, but it’s gone now too.

“I avoided this place for a couple of decades. When I did come back, there was a statue of Elsa and her sister. Her sister was standing with one arm raised,” Jack imitated the pose, “and Elsa collapsed against her. It was supposed to be the moment when her sister turned to ice. I hated it.” Sandman made another question mark appear above his head. “That was the worst moment of her life. Sure, everything got better after that, but there were no statues showing the two of them hugging, no statue of Elsa being happy. So I made my own statue. And now it’s sort of a tradition.” He was silent for a moment, studying his newest statue, prodding it with his staff. It shifted slightly and Sandman looked down in surprise. She was on skates, perfectly balanced on the thin blades of ice, sliding easily across the frozen courtyard.

Jack sprang to his feet, the wind picking up, ruffling his hair. “Want to see the other part of the tradition?”

Sandman followed Jack to the old cathedral. It was locked, but Jack knew a few tricks, and soon the loose window was pushed open and the two were inside.

The cathedral was chilly, although its only two occupants were immune to it. Jack walked, staff dangling loosely in his grasp, and Sandman bobbed along behind him, looking around curiously. Many of the stones beneath them were engraved with names, dates, short verses or brief summaries of the person’s life. Statues and tombs lined the walls, along with more engraved stones. Jack seemed to know the way, heading straight to the far wall, where a large stone had been placed against the wall. Queen Elsa. Jack stretched out a hand, a bouquet of ice flowers forming in his palm. He gently laid them at the foot of the stone and stood there silently for a long moment, leaning against his staff. Sandman was just thinking that silent and solemn did not suit Jack when he turned and grinned. “First time I came in here,” he said, “I was killing time until everyone went home and I could start the statue. There was this guide babbling about ‘separating the historical Queen Elsa from the myth’.” Jack rolled his eyes and Sandman giggled silently. “So I did this.” Jack touched his staff to the stone, and frost spread out in intricate patterns, soon covering the entire stone and nothing else. Jack grinned. “The guide just stood there with his mouth hanging open, and everyone started talking about the spirit of the Snow Queen and how the stories were true.” He pulled his staff back, swung up to perch on top of it, and Sandman drifted up to be eye level with him. “It’s kind of funny, you know? I’ve wanted people to believe in me for so long, but whenever I come here, I make them believe in Elsa instead. I’d rather they believed in her than me. She was real. She deserves to be remembered.”

Sandman patted Jack’s knee, forming the outline of a snowflake with a heart in the center. Jack laughed. “Yeah, I’m a big softie.”

Sandman formed more images: the statue in town, the stone they stood in front of, books, question marks. The images flickered quickly, but Jack got the gist. “Sure, people remembered without me. But I make them believe.” Sandman shook his finger in Jack’s face, but a tiny smile marred his disapproving demeanor. “Yeah, yeah, it’s a little more magic than people are supposed to see. But since they don’t know it’s me, it doesn’t count.” He headed back towards the door, Sandman drifting along besides him. “Besides, there’s plenty of stories that I had nothing to do with. A mild winter is Elsa’s blessing, a bad one means she’s angry. If you tell a wish to a snowman, he’ll take it to Elsa, and the last snowman to melt is the wish that comes true. When the wind comes down the mountain, you can hear her singing.” Jack grinned at Sandman. “See. Lots of stories that I had nothing to do with whatsoever.” They stepped outside. It was clear and crisp, the stars glittering above. “Want to stick around? Seeing people’s reaction is the best part.”

Sandman shook his head sadly, a clock appearing above his head. Jack nodded in understanding. He pointed at the mountain, visible only because it was the spot where no stars could be seen. “Storm clouds around the peak. I’m going to bring in some fresh snow while I wait for the town to wake up.” He took to the air, waving behind him casually. “Catch you later, Sandy.”

Sandy waved back, even though Jack’s back was to him, then floated up above the town, cupping his hands as he formed a dream. A baby in a crib, an open window, wind and snow, the spirit of winter, a blessing and a kiss. He looked over the town, choosing three children, all old enough to tell the story clearly, with younger siblings to tell it to, and sent out the dream. It would take time, perhaps a few more dreams, but the story would spread. There was no reason, after all, why people could not believe in both Elsa and Jack.

On the mountain, Jack danced across the snow to the echo of a song that rose above the howling of the wind.

THE END


End file.
